There's No Saving the Savior
by ShipsInTheKnight
Summary: Emma let out a strangled cry as the queen plunged her hand deep within her chest. The blonde lurched forward in response to the sudden action and then felt a sharp, searing pain stemming from deep within her. It was as if her every cell was pulling against the woman's grip on her beating red heart and was failing miserably. The savior knew she was no match for the queen's strength.
Emma let out a strangled cry as the queen plunged her hand deep within her chest. The blonde lurched forward in response to the sudden action and then felt a sharp, searing pain stemming from deep within her. It was as if her every cell was pulling against the woman's grip on her beating red heart and was failing miserably. The savior knew she was no match for the queen's strength.

The brunette withdrew her hand from the blonde's chest–her prize remaining tight within her clutch–and Emma immediately sensed the loss. As the queen examined the glowing organ, a feeling of emptiness overcame the savior.

Everything she was, everything she had ever lived for was gone–stolen and plucked from her chest as if it were an apple on a tree. All because of the Evil Queen.

Emma collapsed at the brunette's feet, her eyes dull and void of their usual zest for life. The blonde had finally accepted the reality of the situation. She was no longer in control.

"Magnificent," the woman towering over the defeated savior marveled. "Not even a single blemish."

Stepping towards a wall full of golden squares, the queen lifted the pulsating organ. As a result, one of the squares revealed themselves to be a box, hidden within the wall, and the woman delicately placed the item inside. Without needing instruction, the square returned to its closed position and the queen's face broke out into a Cheshire grin, her eyes swirling dangerously with lust.

The next thing Emma knew the queen's guards were dragging her to the brunette's bedchambers. She knew she should have been more concerned with what the woman planned to do to her, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. Not only did she feel numb, she felt as if she was watching her life play out in front of her, as if it were on a movie screen.

Emma didn't fight the guards as they restrained her hands, tying them down tightly to the woman's bedpost. She didn't fight them when they tore off her garments and drank in the sight of her exposed flesh. And she certainly didn't fight them when one had gone as far as to–

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" came the queen's sharp voice. The guard immediately snatched his hand away from the blonde's bare breast and failed to meet the woman's eyes. The queen stalked over to the pathetic excuse for a man and snapped his neck with a flick of her wrist. Emma didn't flinch.

The brunette turned to face the remaining guards, silently questioning if they had anything to add, and they both took the silent hint to make their leave. Smirking to herself, the queen flicked her hand again, this time making the man's corpse disappear in a cloud of plum smoke. Emma watched as the man's lifeless eyes faded into cobblestone.

"Nothing like the rush of a fresh kill to liven the mood," mused the queen, her eyes drinking in the sight of the blonde's naked form.

"What are you planning to do to me?" Emma's voice came out almost robotic. She recalled using the same tone to ask about mundane things, such as the weather. In the back of her mind, a voice called out for her to 'wake the fuck up' and 'she's controlling you, you idiot' but Emma didn't listen. She didn't want to listen.

If this were to be her life now, she decided she wouldn't _want_ to feel all the terrible things that were going to happen to her. And why should she? The queen was going to take advantage of her whether she wanted her to or not. In a way, it was a mercy on the queen's behalf to take away her capacity to feel emotion. It might be the only thing that saves her.

The queen sensed the blonde's internal monologue and she grew tired of it quickly. She was never one for patience. Deliberately choosing to ignore the woman's question, the brunette situated herself on top of Emma and straddled her hips. The blonde didn't respond in the slightest, staring up at the queen as if she were no more interesting than the Terms and Conditions page.

Emma's response, or lack there of, infuriated the brunette woman. The reason she had been so entranced by the blonde was because of her fiery personality. That and the fact Regina believed to have found a worthy challenge in the blonde, but she'd never admit that much. Growling lowly, the queen removed herself from the other woman and stormed out of the room without another word.

Once the door slammed loudly behind the queen, Emma remained frozen in her horizontal position. In a way she felt relieved but a much larger part of her felt rejected. She willed that anger to grow–forcing herself to feel _something_ –but it died out quickly. Once again Emma was left feeling empty of all emotions and physically drained of energy.

Deciding to escape this new reality, the blonde granted her body permission to succumb to sleep.

* * *

Charging through the doors leading to her main chambers, the queen let out a loud roar of frustration. She shoved all the contents of her vanity's surface to the floor, forcing the glass ornaments to shatter, and then began to hastily pace the room.

Having sensed his daughter's distress, the good Prince Henry granted himself entrance and approached the woman.

"What seems to be the matter, child?" he spoke in a sympathetic tone, placing a calming hand on her shoulder. The queen immediately halted her movements and looked to the elderly man.

"Nothing is going the way I want, Daddy," she admitted aloud, her voice sounding desperate. "Not only did _Snow White_ escape, but now capturing hearts has not felt as fulfilling as it used to."

The man sighed at his daughter's admission. "Maybe it's time to stop taking other people's hearts and allow someone to give you theirs freely?" he tried with a hopeful expression.

The woman scoffed in response, turning her attention away from her father. Taking the hint, the old man made his leave, but not before reiterating his point.

When her father had gone, the queen hung her head in defeat. "It's too late for me."


End file.
